


Its Own Reward

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Hugs, M/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 09:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2617064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John convinces Harold to give him a hug. (Coda to 2x03)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Its Own Reward

When they returned to the Library, Harold let Bear off the leash, while Mr. Reese sat himself down in the wooden chair next to Harold's ergonomic one.

 

"Finch?"

 

Finch turned, almost scowling. He still expected John to try and get him to talk about what happened with Root, eventually. The drinks were no doubt merely a temporary distraction, to get him to relax before he bombarded him with questions.

 

Instead, John sighed. He was having some difficulty controlling his face; it was flitting between wariness, remorse, frustration. Eventually he settled on a sheepish expression. "Hug?"

 

A slow blink of surprise. "What on earth for?"

 

"Getting you back unharmed." He glanced at the bandage on Harold's hand. "More or less."

 

"Victory is its own reward, Mr. Reese."

 

Reese was doing that thing with his eyes again. As though they were made entirely of liquid and if Harold didn't say yes, they were going to drip all over his floor.

 

"Alright. But mind my neck." Finch held out his arms, a bit stiffly, and waited.

 

There was an awkward few seconds as Reese got up from the chair and stood in front of Finch, apparently trying to decide how to do this.

 

Then he slid his hands underneath Finch's jacket, around his sides until they came to rest at his lower back. He tucked his chin down against Harold's shoulder, and in turn Harold's face ended up at very close range to John's pristine white shirt collar. Pressing his own palms to John's back, the solidity of him, safe and whole and not bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds, was...reassuring, to say the least. Nevertheless, Finch was perpetually aware that he was meant to be Mr. Reese's employer, however much they increasingly depended on one another for nearly everything. Despite owing John his life, so many times over.

 

Harold allowed the hug to continue for another minute, then patted twice and loosened his grip. Reese held on.

 

"You can let go now." Finch said.

 

John made a strange noise, indistinguishable between a laugh and a sob. "Sorry." But when he'd pulled back far enough for Harold to see his face again, it was glowing with a contented smile.

 

He gave Harold's belly a soft tap with the back of his fingers, and stepped around him to hang up his own jacket.


End file.
